


Happy Little Boozer

by TiaLewise



Series: Ineffable Brood Series [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Is Trying (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Drunken Shenanigans, Gen, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Lucina Grace Antonia Fell, Nonbinary Character, Slice of Life, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Transphobia, Underage Drinking, supportive husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 15:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20641589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiaLewise/pseuds/TiaLewise
Summary: Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it's the South Downs' answer to The Them, and they've bitten off more than they can chew.





	Happy Little Boozer

**Author's Note:**

> Definitely not projecting from my past for this one, nope, not at all lmao
> 
> Content warnings for underage drinking, brief episode of vomiting, and implied transphobia

The town of Peacehaven, nestled prettily above the cliffs of the South Downs, is apparently rather popular with relocating Londoners who don't fancy nearby Brighton. It's quiet-ish, and fairly quaint, and at present, four teenagers are running full pelt through the darkened streets, whooping and cheering.

First comes Rex Hemingway, dark of skin and sporting a pierced septum, stocky and strong, yet light on their feet. Rex isn't their birth name, but once they're old enough, they're going to apply to change it.

Next are Emily and Jamie Archer, fraternal twins. Her hair is brown, his is purple - to distract, he says, from the unfortunate crop of pimples across his cheeks. It doesn't always work, but the colour is nice, at least.

Lastly, bringing up the rear and dancing in wobbly circles, comes the heavenly demon, or should that be demonic angel, that is Lucina Grace Fell. 

All four are wet through, smudged with cliff chalk, and very, very drunk.

"I've got  _ blisters,"  _ moans Jamie, slumping against a lamppost as he tugs off a sopping trainer to inspect his foot.

Rex presses a half-empty bottle of wine into Jamie's hand, giggling as he teeters and near topples. "My uncle once got  _ so _ drunk," they whisper, "that he fell into a wall and sheared all the skin off his face. Didn't feel a thing!"

"Reckon my foot'll be better off than his face was?" Jamie grins, wiggling his wrinkly toes towards Rex.

"Ew, what are you doing, you weirdo?" Emily protests, trying to sound exasperated, but Lucina is spinning her around like a broken ballet dancer, and her words come out tinged with breathless laughter. "Lucie, I'll be sick!" she yells, and no amount of booze could make Lucina stop caring about her beautiful, bright red Dr Martens, and she steps back, eyes spinning where her body isn't. 

She's been coming to Peacehaven with her family for the last four years, every summer holiday and usually Easter, too (Christmas is the exception, they tend to go abroad then). They have a cottage on the fringe of town, which her mama proudly named  _ Nova Sylva,  _ and that's where they stay during their visits. Last year Lucina thought she detected a hint of wistfulness in her parents, her father in particular, when it was time to leave, and she suspects they're going to move in full-time before long. 

She loves Peacehaven. London's only fun if you enjoy the choke of smog in your lungs and too many roads to stop at and cross. Peacehaven is by the  _ sea,  _ and it's pretty, and her  _ friends  _ are here. She doesn't have friends in London. She finds the kids at her school too uptight, too straightlaced and destined for great things that most could only dream of. She turns her nose up at that. Where's the fun, she thinks, in being destined for bureaucracy, or Oxbridge, when she can frolic amongst the rock pools with her rambunctious group, and see the stars in the sky at night, unobscured by pollution? Her mama made the stars, she likes to tell people. They never believe her, but that's fine, so long as they know.

"We're outta wine," Jamie laments, tossing the bottle into the air. It lands on his shoulder and clatters to the ground, unbroken. Lucina narrows her eyes at it, and it splits cleanly in half. 

"My dad's got some really nice red back at the cottage," she offers. "No harm in trying, right?"

Jamie whistles. "Totally." He prods his rather dazed-looking sister, sitting on the concrete, with his bare toe. "C'mon, Emmy."

Rex has already thrown their arm round Lucina's shoulders. "Lead the way, Lucie!"

It starts to rain on the trek towards the cottage, during which Lucina and Rex have struck up a rousing rendition of  _ Bohemian Rhapsody.  _ The twins provide the headbanging, and Emily loses her glasses at some point; Jamie has left his trainer by the lamppost.

_ Nova Sylva  _ is a dilapidated-looking thing, and tiny from the outside, but much,  _ much  _ bigger inside, with a full library in the east wing and a conservatory-cum-greenhouse in the west. One might wonder at such a placement for the growing of plants, but any greenery in Crowley's presence knows better than to disappoint their cultivator.

"Will your dad mind?" Emily shouts over the caterwauling of  _ nothing really matters to meeeee… _

Lucina just shrugs. Aziraphale is usually in his study by this time, blissfully ignorant to the world, and Crowley passed out in bed. With any luck, they won't notice a missing bottle or four.

Luck is not on their side. Lucina makes such a drunken racket jamming her key into the front door's old-fashioned lock that after several moments of fruitless rattling, the worn wood opens from inside. There stands Aziraphale, prim and proper, tartan and linen, though his brows are currently knitted in a frown. 

"Hello, Mr Fell!" Emily trills. Then she goes green, mutters, "uh-oh," and vomits into the gardenias bordering the path. 

Aziraphale sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Inside, all of you - yes, you too, young Master Archer, I'll get your sister cleaned up…"

Lucina grins at Rex as they file into the cottage. "Coulda been worse."

They settle into the sitting room, and Lucina is eyeing the bottles in her father's wine cabinet when he enters, guiding a pale-looking Emily with gentle hands. "There now, darling...sit here and I'll bring you some water," he murmurs, settling her into his own comfy armchair. She gives him a weak smile and nods, and he pats her hand before shooting A Look at Lucina. "Lucina, petal, come and help me in the kitchen."

_ I'm in for it.  _ Rex lightly punches her shoulder as she staggers after her father.

He rounds on her after spending a few minutes struggling with the coffee machine. "Explain."

Lucina scuffs her shoes against the floor, meek and quiet. Angels are so much scarier than demons could ever be.

"Was just a bit of fun," she mutters. 

"Fun," repeats Aziraphale. "And where did you get such large amounts of alcohol, that you may have this... _ fun?" _

"Rex's house."

The coffee machine sputters to a halt, and Aziraphale removes the mug underneath it, then adds another one and a fresh pod. "I really don't know what to say, petal. Children, vulnerable children, all of you, and if something had happened-"

"I'm not a child anymore, dad," she scowls.

"Yes, you are, and  _ especially  _ by my standards! Even the oldest man on Earth is a mere hatchling to me, and  _ you  _ are yet to see your fifteenth birthday."

"Well, maybe your standards  _ suck." _

Aziraphale observes her for a moment, eyes unblinking. Then he sighs, turns away to fiddle with the coffee machine again. "Do I baby you too much?" he murmurs.

_ "Yes."  _ Lucina folds her arms resolutely. 

"I see. You should go and sit with your friends. If you're all going to inebriate yourselves silly, you might as well sleep it off under a roof where you're safe - and give this to Emily, will you?" He holds a glass of ice-cold water out to Lucina, but keeps his eyes firmly away from her.

She takes the glass silently and leaves. A peculiar heat begins to settle in the pit of her stomach that has nothing to do with the wine.

Crowley has joined the teens in the sitting room, apparently having been woken by the commotion, as he's still in his black silk pyjamas and looks a little ruffled. He's sitting next to Rex on the sofa and talking on the phone, though he gives Lucina a brief nod as she enters. 

Emily is nodding off in Aziraphale's armchair. Lucina prods her and shoves the water into her hands. "Thanks," Emily says, sipping it.

"Is your dad angry with us?" Jamie whispers from his cross-legged sprawl on the floor. Lucina shrugs and perches on the arm of Emily's chair. 

"-Yep. Understand that perfectly," Crowley is saying into the phone. "Mmhm. Not ideal, but in our defence, we didn't know - yeah - alright, Mrs Hemingway, can I stop you a -" 

He scowls at the phone, prompting an embarrassed twitch of the mouth from Rex. "Look," he continues, "we're doing you a favour here by - oi, mine and Ezra's marital status has nothing to do with this, and I'd thank you to - right. Well, maybe if you actually supported your kid and respected them, they wouldn't be tempted into drinking so much.  _ Good fucking night _ to you."

All four teenagers, plus Aziraphale now hovering in the doorway, gape at Crowley as he hangs up.

"What?" he mutters, not meeting anyone's eyes. "She was using the wrong pronouns."

Rex gasps, hands over their mouth - then they fling themselves, suddenly, drunkenly, into Crowley's arms to sob on his shoulder. Not missing a beat, Crowley gathers Rex close, lets them cry.

"I presume," Aziraphale says, as he sets a tray laden with coffee mugs onto the table, "that you wish for me to contact the Archers, dear?"

"Jamie just texted his dad," replies Crowley, rubbing gentle circles into Rex's back. "Says thanks for taking the kids in for the night. Here, Rex, sit up a sec." Crowley reaches for a mug and presses it into Rex's shaking hands. Rex gives him a watery smile and settles back on the sofa to sip the milky drink. 

"I do believe we never actually get any rest when we come here," remarks Aziraphale, but Lucina sees the slight sparkle returning to his eyes as he surveys them all; Jamie, playing games on his phone, Rex murmuring softly to Crowley, Emily with her head pillowed on one arm, Lucina trying not to glower at her father and failing miserably. He  _ does  _ baby her, and sober, she wouldn't ever say she minded, but…

Well...he does mean well by it.

"Dearest, could you...see if we have any spare pyjamas for our guests? They're soaked through."

"Yeah, sure."

Only Lucina notices the discreet finger snap as Crowley gets to his feet. Upstairs, several neatly folded bundles no doubt now rest at the foot of her parents' bed. 

She reaches for her own coffee, and makes a mental note to apologise to Aziraphale in the morning. 

And perhaps try her hand at miracling away a hangover.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you like, come yell at me on Tumblr @tia-lewise! I'm always up for a chat.
> 
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